When Unrequited Becomes Requited
by Chappy-the-Bunny
Summary: A love as pure as this...will never be requited.


**When Unrequited Becomes Requited**

Groaning murderously, I rose from my large, toy-cluttered bed. Suzuki-san was on the floor. I must have knocked him off and out while I slept. I hate Thursdays, but look at me now...about to live yet another.

Sliding out of my king, I picked up Suzuki-san. The poor guy must've been cold sleeping there for the better part of the night. Giving him a nice pat on his large, rotund stomach, I tucked him into the bed in which he should have been resting in last night. However, as I mentioned, because of me and my rashful sleeping, he must have been booted from my hold.

Sighing, brushing my over-grown and needing-to-be-cut, silver-sand bangs out of my sharp, sleep-deprived eyes, I walked toward the exit of my dim and rayless room. Looking down at my anatomy before doing so, I realized that my sleeping sweatpants had forsaken me. Shifting my puppet-of-a-body back to my bed's edge, I retrieved the dreadful beings. What a ruthless sleep I must have had. I cannot remember, though...did I dream? If I did, there is no doubt that it must have been about my love...

Takahiro...

Stuffing my long legs into the sleeves of the nightwear/housewear, I then commenced in the action of tighting the draw string upon the pants' elastic waist. Bunny ear, bunny ear, through the hole and out, my pants tightened to accustom my figure. Ruffling my hair once more, my eyes finally awakening, yet still hazey, I strolled toward the door of my dwelling, more than likely knocking over small villages or trains upon their tracks, opening it with the twist of a knob.

Shielding myself from the harsh, bright light that seered through the irises of my violet-hinted eyes, yet another groan escaped the cage of my throat. Another day, another dollar. Whoever came up with that motto is surely an idiot.

Walking down the long, upper hall of my penthouse apartment complex, my bare feet stomping upon the ground heavily with each of my strides, I had finally made it to the stairs. So. Many. Stairs. Before descending them, I did as I always do: I looked upon the large, spacious room that would soon be before me. Doing this today, what I saw had startled me. Normally, I would see empty, fluffy, velvet couches, my kitchen, my guest/waiting room, and the entrance to my balcony deck. Today, Thursday, there was something extra. Correction. _Someone_ extra. That someone was Takahiro's younger brother.

Sighing, I finally allowed myself to walk down upon those "so many stairs". At the bottom of them, I had unintentionally gotten a better look of the soon-to-be college student. As peaceful as a newborn when he slept, his mouth slightly ajar, the younger brother of the love of my life looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks.

_I guess I should wake him. It's almost 10._

"Oi, Misaki," I had said, keeping my distance from the adolescent. He budged but none. Irritated, I decided to make myself situated into a towering stand over him. The way his fists were balled next to his face like an infant made it look as if I were about to kill him. It looked that way to me, at least.

Careful, I placed a light hand on his shoulder, shaking the joint of it back and forth slowly, yet alarmingly. "Oi, Misaki, your brother will be worried if you don't go home," I joked. It was already morning. He doesn't know that, I bet, though.

This time, his eyes squinted as if he were in pain. Groaning in a much more delicate way than I, the almost-adult's eyelids had parted, revealing his emerald-jade eyes. Hazed, dazed and glazed, he shifted his bedhead to look up at me. His complexion one of confusion, he questioned me, "Usagi-san?"

"Clear your eyes, Misaki. It's me," I teased him again. Rubbing his eyes, blinking them as well, he looked up at me again. Reassured that I was in fact the person that was standing before him, rather than his usual "Nii-chan", his eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, crap! I fell asleep here!" The boy now frantic, he had flung upward into a sit, clenching his forehead after doing so. The motion had probably dizzied him. Rubbing the skin of his upper face, Misaki now rose into a stand.

Off ballance, making him look like a fool, I instructed him, "Misaki, calm down."

"How can I calm down?" he had shot back at me. "Nii-chan is probably _so_ worried! I told him I would be back by 22 o'clock last night! He's probably called the police, no! He's probably called the FBI!" Misaki was now running around my living room. He was giving me a headache. I guess it's time to let him in on the joke.

"Misaki, I called your brother as soon as I noticed that you were dozing off last night. I collected all of your papers, too. Based on how you were answering the questions I provided, I would say that your average would have been a C+." Well, this is no fun. He no longer has anything to worry and look like a complete idiot about.

Spinning to face me, his evergreen gumdrops wide once more, he felt it necessary to question me on my statement? Ridiculous. "Wait, r-really? You called Nii-chan? What'd he say? Was he upset?" His tone made me rub my own forehead now. I knew Takahiro's younger brother was an idiot, but did he really have to ask me something so trivial?

"Takahiro didn't mind. He was worried about your health, suggesting that staying here for the night would, indeed, be best." Leave it at that, please. Talking to you is like talking to a rock.

A rush of relief had flooded across the minor's face. Placing a soft hand to his heart, he recited, "I'm glad...Nii-chan can get so worried, sometimes."

Walking past the nuisance and toward my kitchen, intention to brew myself a cup of coffee, I scoffed, "Runs in the family."

Setting a mug upon the platform of a one-serve coffee maker that I had purchased long ago, I flipped open it's duel compartments, clicking in a single, turbo-caf, hazelnut-crisp flavored cup into it's assortment. Filling the second depression with the designated amount of pure water, I then turned the machine on. The dumbbell had begun fumbling around on the coffee table through his text books and work sheets. Turning my head to look back at him, the sight of how intent and determind his face was only make me laugh. He was such a lost cause.

The machine beeping me out of my thoughts and back to reality, my coffee maker had begun to expell my highly-caffinated morning drink. Tapping an impatient finger against the granite counter while it poured, I decided to give my "student" another glance. He had his nose stuck in a book about Chemistry, something that I found he was decent in. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pulled tight, as his eyes scanned the various words and phrases intently. I have to give him some credit. At least he tries...and if he ever wants to get into M University, he better keep trying. Slacking off at this point would have wasted four valuable months of my time.

Retrieving my coffee and unplugging it's maker, I strolled over to one of my couches. Sitting upon the one that was set across from Takahiro's brother, I crossed my legs, sipping my coffee with the motion. It's thin, hot liquid, black as tar, slid bitterly down my throat. Misaki had looked up at me when I had sat down, but he quickly redirected his eyes back to his book.

"Have a test today, or something?" I decided to pry, pulling Suzuki-san Jr. to my side.

"Yeah, in Chemistry." Well, if that wasn't obvious, braniac.

"Ready for it?"

"Barely..." His tone was disconnected and disinterested, like he didn't want to continue speaking. I concluded to stop trying to be so nice. He's Takahiro's brother, yes, but I don't have to set him on pedestal and treat him like royalty.

Stretching my arm, the one that wasn't holding Suzuki-san Jr. dearly, outward to reach for my daily newspaper, this one actually from yesterday, that was upon my coffee table, I snatched the thick paper with a crunch. Flipping it open with one hand, viewing the front page's contents, I found myself irritated with the fact that I had a "roomie". I just feel like I have to act a certain way around the boy, which I _could_ ultimately chose not to. However...for Takahiro's sake...

Hearing a startling gasp moments later that could break even the dead into consciousness, I shifted my eyes to look up at it's maker. I saw Misaki, on his feet, staring at my grandfather clock, his mouth and eyes appearing as if he had just seen a spiritual being.

"It's that late already!" he had exclaimed, far too loud for my liking.

"You gonna be late? Want a ride?" Offering him rides in my car now? I'm far too nice.

"No, that's fine, thanks." At least he thanked me. "Gotta run now! Ja ne!"

Grabbing his dropped-out-of-shock Chemistry book from the floor, the hopeless wreck was off. Messily wrapping his scarf around his neck, his coat over only one arm, his shoes shoved on in a hurry, out the door he went. Gone.

Quiet.

Sighing with absolute relief, I kicked my sockless feet onto the coffee table, flipping on the television. Allowing my eyes and brain to consume even more news, I couldn't help but let my mind wander a bit. After all, today was Takahiro's birthday.

I had already purchased him the perfect gift, a wristwatch that he had wanted so dearly, but didn't have the money to pursue, so that wasn't an issue of the matter. What was really bothering me was which style of cake I should buy him. I know he loves vanilla, but does he like chocolate frosting? Does he want something written on it? Maybe he's a fan of strawberries? Sighing, I clamped my hand to my forehead. If only he knew how much I worry about his happiness...would he love me then?

A hopeless fantasy.

Killing the TV, I rose to my feet. Getting dressed would be a plus, at this point. Thinking of this action, it made me realize that Misaki had left my apartment in the clothes he was wearing yesterday. The young fellow might turn some heads. People will probably get some twisted, misinterpreted ideas. Might make him popular, though.

Ascending my once descended stairs, my destination and mission to get dressed, I made my way back to my bedroom. Opening the door to my lightless toy jungle, I couldn't help but smile. Suzuki-san was still tucked and snug, nice and neatly, just like I had left him.

Walking as carefully as I could to my dressing closet, whispering , "Hope you're sleeping well," to Suzuki-san while I did so, I opened yet another door. Pulling on the metal chain that hung in a dangle from the ceiling, the action turning on my closet's light, I looked at the clothes before me. I want to dress nicely. It's Takahiro's birthday. The whole occasion is special.

Walking into the tight squeeze, I looked at my jacket vests. My personal favourite was my deep navy in the front, light grey in the back vest that I had purchased back in England. Wearing it once while I was in Takahiro's presence, he had told me that I had looked as handsome as a rabbit. I guess that that instance was the birth of my nickname "Usagi", being that is it so close to my surname, "Usami".

Fetching the vest's matching pants, shirt, and flame-yellow tie, I slung all of my apparel pieces over my right forearm. Retreating from my much-too-small closet, pulling the hanging chain to darken it's light, I closed the rose-wood door behind myself.

Throwing the clothes onto my messy bed, apologizing to Suzuki-san for hitting him in the head, I walked over to my undergarment bureau. Pulling out my necesities and stripping of my nightwear, they were now what had replaced my baggy sweats and tight-fit, solid, long-sleeve tee.

Strolling, once more, back to my bed, I grabbed my crescent-navy dress pants. Sliding myself into them, zipping the zipper of their front, then buttoning them, my next task was to put on my blue button-up. Grabbing it, I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the soft cotton. Sighing, bored with the task of dressing, I turned my head to face Suzuki-san. My vest and tie were still thrown loosely and limply over his large head.

"You're lucky that all you have to wear is a bow."

Silence.

"If I went outside only wearing a bow, I'd surely attract attention."

No response.

"If you agree with my following statement, stay silent: Takahiro will never love me in the way that I love him."

As expected, silence.

Laughing wryly at myself, for it was all I could do, I touched a long finger to the tip of Suzuki-san's nose. "That's correct."

* * *

"Thank you very much, sir!" The young, expecting woman had chanted from behind her pastry counter. While speaking her thanks, she had placed "my" cake upon the pastry display case's glassy surface.

Snatching it through the loop holes of it's provided bag, I returned, "Thanks."

Turning back to face the female before my exit, what I assumed to be her husband, the father of their soon-to-be child, had appeared. He had begun rubbing her swollen lower abdomen dearly, whispering something to the fetus inside. The sight only made me pity the woman. She wouldn't be smiling so sweetly when it came time of her labor.

The cutting air blowing into my semi-scarf-covered face as I opened the entrance door to their family bakery, a small bell announcing my leave, I quickly pulled the winter cover up to the tip of my nose. How I hate winter.

The plastic of Takahiro's cake's bag cruched and ruffled with each step I took. It was such an annoying sound. Ultimately, I had got him a vanilla cake with vanilla frosting. Nothing written, no decorative jewelries. My love for him is simple, just like his cake. By having anything else upon it would be a wasted effort. Also, it would make it seem like I wanted something more by treating him so preciously. I don't need him thinking that way.

Sighing as I continued to give my mind the ability to wander, I turned the follow-up street corner to my right. What I saw was not something I was expecting: Takahiro's younger brother screaming to the sun.

"I do _not_ like men!" His shout echoed into the aray of light.

Holding back a scoff, I asked him, "What do you think you're doing?"

This had thoroughly startled him. "O-Oh! Sensei! Th-Thy doth verily in most excellent spirits!"

Where in the world did he pick up that style of language? He sounded like a babbling idiot. "Sounds like you need to study your ancient literature from scratch," I informed. Tired with this game, I followed my previous statement with, "Well, anyway, it's good we ran into each other. Let's go home together." Holding up my purchased cake, it's plastic crunching but yet again, I concluded, "I bought a cake. Today's Takahiro's birthday." Misaki looked up at me with astonishment when I had handed him the cake. Did he really forget? "Looks like you'd forgotten," I pointed out with a devious smirk.

This angered him slightly. He shot back, his words gently stuttered, "Of-Of course I didn't forget!" Letting the cake fall to his side, while being held in his left hand, he began to fumble for something in his coat's poket with his right. Pulling it out, it looked to me like it was his monthly progess report. He held it out to me. "I got this today."

Taking the formal paper from his hand, I scanned it diligently. His grades were average, B's and C's. One D+ in English caught my eye, but I let it slide. He was doing so well! All thanks to me, might I add. Takahiro will be so proud when he sees these grades, he'll want to pin it to his refridgerator!

Keeping my straight face until I could hold my joy no longer, I roughly reached my hand out to rub the chocolate-brown hair upon Misaki's head, expelling a pleased laugh or two as well. This had excavated a blush from the boy.

"W-What are you doing?" he had questioned me with annoyance, but I chose to disregard it.

Rubbing his head for a moment more, I chose to finally release. Keeping my hand raised in the air as if I were about to bless the boy, I praised him. "Good job!" Wearing a smile that was half-plastic, half-real, the real part due to my glee of the thought of Takahiro's joyous face, I allowed my hand to drop to my side.

Opening my eyes, I looked down at the adolescent. He was blushing furiously, his head still hung from when I had rubbed it. Did that really make him happy? Is he easy to please like his brother? Whatever, it doesn't matter. "If we don't get a move on, your brother will make it home before we do."

Saying this had snapped Misaki out of his daze. What was he thinking about, I wonder? "O-Okay..." he aggreed, his tone melancholy. What, he's sad now? This boy is far too emotional for my liking.

* * *

Placing the final forks on Takahiro's dining room table, the feast we had made in his honor, set for three, was gracefully displayed there as well. Misaki clapped his hands together. The noise startled me.

"Usagi-san, this is really gonna make Nii-chan happy!" he had announced. I can only hope that the words he's preaching are true. To make Takahiro happy..."Usagi-san, hurry! I think I heard the front door open!" Well, aren't you an instructive little brat.

Grabbing a party-popper into my hand, waiting for the right moment to explode it, I looked over at Misaki. He had his hands clasped together and raised high. He looked as if he had bet on a horse, watching the race to see if his purchase was to any avail.

The brat was right, however, for Takahiro, in all his glorifying beauty, had rounded the corner. Moving one of the hanging door flags out of his way as he entered the dining room, he announced, "I'm home-Wah!" I had cut him off with the explosion of my party-popper.

"Happy birthday, Takahiro!" I cheered, a real, crisp smile of jubilee upon my lips.

Misaki had begun clapping his hands together. "Happy birthday!" he followed.

Less startled, Takahiro dropped his defensive hand. I must have truly scared him. "Wow, what a feast! Thank you!" No need to thank me, Takahiro. You deserve it.

Grabbing my present for him from the food-covered table, the pricey wristwatch placed inside a lush-black box, accented with a petite, yellow bow. I held it before him. "Here, this is from me," I had said, urging him to take it. Thankfully, he complied.

He brought the gift close to his face, is if inspecting it's outter core before opening it. Deciding that it would take him years to do so, the act of opening, I continued, "You wanted that watch we saw together before, didn't you?"

He turned his face to me, his expression changing from one of mystery to one of worry. "Eh? But that was really expensive!" Is he going to fight with me on his birthday? Takahiro, you're far too kind.

Flashing a bright smile at him, I insisted, "One luxury item per year won't kill you!"

This had seemingly made him feel at ease. Happy once more, he gratefully spoke, "Ahh! Thank you so much, Usagi!" This had coaxed a joyous chuckle from myself as well.

Misaki, the prince of mood breakers, had lectured, "Nii-chan, you forgot to lock the door." I was lucky, though. Usually when his little brother so much as blinked, Takahiro would turn his attention to him. Right now, however, Takahiro was fixated on opening his new watch, only able enough to expell a short "oh, sorry" to his little brother.

Looking up to take on the job of his elder brother, I glanced at Misaki. He was leaving the room, heading for the front door. It could just be my imagination, but I think I heard him gasp.

"Ah, that's right," Takahiro had said. Overwhelmed with joy over how perfectly everything was going, I couldn't help myself. I had embraced Takahiro. "I have something important to tell you."

Continuing his sentence as if my endearment meant nothing to him, like it must have always seemed, he addressed, "I'm glad you're here, too, Usagi." Me? What does this mean?

Dragging himself out of the dining room, my body drapped upon his own with each pull, he joked lightly, also releasing a nervous giggle, "Come on, let go already!" I let go. He walked away.

"This is Kajiwara Minami-san," he introduced, placing his hand before a beautiful woman in the presentation. She bowed honorably. Takahiro, what are you doing? Placing that same hand on her shoulder lightly, just like the way he did everything, lightly, he said the words I had prayed, hoped he would never say, never ever say to me:

"We've decided to get married."

My eyes seering with shock, displeasure, remorse, and probably much more, I allowed myself that brief second in time for my eyes to show how they felt, how they truly and honestly felt...and Takahiro had missed it. He was looking down at his new fiancee with a look that I wanted from him, craved from him, but had never received...the look of absolute, 100% pure love.

This is it. My futile game is all over. Check and checkmate.

Masking my face with glee, I strolled over to the happy couple. Being a friend, you have to do these things...even if they hurt more than death. "That's great! You finally did it, Takahiro!" Patting him praisingly on the shoulder that, moments ago, I had been embracing, I complimented, "And she's such a beautiful woman, too."

"Thanks," he replied graciously, smiling at me. It was something I did not want to see on his face at the moment. Continuing, he said, "I'm really glad you're happy about it, too." My reply was silent, only a smile painting the lips of my face to please him. Everything I do is only to make him happy.

Adding to his statements again, he spoke, "I wanted you to be the first person I introduced her to-!"

There was a loud crash upon the wall of Takahiro's household. All of us startled, we directed our attention to it's maker. Misaki.

He had punched the wall with the ball of his fist, his face darkened in something of rage. Rage? What is he so upset about? Takahiro has just announced something so exciting, and you're upset? Ungrateful little...

"Misaki?" Takahiro, the overly concerned older brother that he was, had asked. For a moment, Misaki was silent.

In a whisper, a small, what seemed to be a growl, errupted from the boy's mouth. "...some more."

This confused Takahiro. "Eh?"

"The champagne's gone, I'll go buy some more!" His words were sharp, not pleased in the slightest. What is up with him? Is he upset that his brother is getting married? Why? What's it got to do with him?

"They won't sell it to a minor," Takahiro warned. He seemed upset with Misaki's offer, like he should be. Being ungrateful at a time like this should surely be disda-

"Usagi-san, come with me!" Shouting my name, demanding me to follow, grabbing my hand with force, the boy of eighteen whisked me out of Takahiro's shoe-entrance room. Pulling me fiercely out the front door, the bitter cold nawing at my face, I made quick to grab my coat. For a small boy, he sure did have a lot of upper arm strength.

Misaki had guided me all the way to a distant light post, almost a half-mile away from where we were this afternoon. He was panting like a dog, backside facing me, bent over with his hands clamped to his knees. Listening to his breathing pattern silently for a while, my hands tucked into the pockets of my long, grey-shaded jacket, I had noticed a distinct change in his tone. His breaths had become much more high-pitched and spacious. If I were to disect this any further, I would say he's crying.

Breathing in one last, fierce time, he whispered to me, his voice pained and broken. "I'm sorry..."

What an odd thing to say. "Why are you apologizing?"

The rage from before returning, he backfired, "That was just...too cruel! You'd been in love with him the whole time! You always care for him, and yet...!" Pausing to rub away his spilling tears, also to achieve the art of breathing once more, he continued remorsefully, "He wanted to introduce her to you first?" All I could do was watch. My face that of a stone, I continued to wonder to myself what has gotten him so fired up. "He was so insensitve..." Continuing on and on seemed to be the only thing this boy could do. "This is the first time I've ever wanted to punch him!"

His final words had coaxed a smile to pour onto my lips. Is he crying for the sake of me? Nonetheless, seeing him so angry was actually quite a cute sight. Wanting to anger him more, I teased, "What a dirty way of crying." It was true, though. His tears flowed so quickly that his hands could barely keep up with them.

To my pleasure, the words I spoke did infuriate him. "I'm crying because of you!" Although I kept my face stable, the depths of my core twisted, burned. No one has ever cried for my sake before...until now.

Misaki had finally turned around, but it wasn't actually a turn. It was more of a whip-like twirl. "Once I start crying," he roared, "I can't even stop if I want to...!" Well, if that wasn't the truth, I didn't know what was.

After saying those words, he had been silenced by his "unstoppable" surge of tears, the sight making him look that of an infant. Compared to myself, he was just a child. Ten years divided us, showing to me what true and pure naviety this boy contained.

Stepping toward him, I laid a soft hand on the top of his head. What was going on inside of it must have been far too overwhelming for him. "I see." It's time to change that.

Moving fast so he wouldn't break away, somewhat expecting that he would, I clenched my hold onto Misaki's right wrist, pinning it back so that it was held situated beside his head. Closing my eyes, hoping dearly that my aim would not fail me, I stretched the tight muscles of my neck outward, the goal of this all being that my lips would meet Misaki's. They did.

Noising in shock and uncertainty, Misaki's mouth grew loose and easily accessible. Noticing this immediately, I moved my right leg forward. It made it's home in between both of Misaki's. Cupping my left hand to the right of his cheek, I intensified our kiss, breaking his lips with my own.

As my tongue slid up and down the tongue of Misaki, I felt his own begin to move with mine. Be it that he was doing this intentionally or not, it deeply pleased my inner core. Feeling his hand that was on my the left of my chest begin to loose it's hold, I knew I was dazing him. It had fallen to his side. I didn't want that.

Arching myself forward to strengthen our intertwined lips all the more, something else happened that purely excited me: Misaki had moaned. After this intoxicating sound was projected, however, the adolescent had _stopped_. His tongue, his lips, and even his body, all three of them froze.

Laughing a single, amused laugh as I released his dead lips, I joked, "You stopped." Looking upon his rose-red face, I couldn't help but feel proud, showing this with a smirk. For a boy who was once so full of tears, all it took was the movement of my lips upon his own to get him to stop cold.

Dropping my hand from his starstruck, cherry-beat face, my smirky grin fading with the motion, I breathed outward in release. The puff of my white breath danced in front of my face, swirling into oblivion just moments later. Shifting my glance downward slightly, I edged myself back down to level off with Misaki. Wrapping his small body into both of my arms, I whispered, "Sorry. Just for a little while..."

The realization of my loss, the loss of Takahiro, had finally begun to drip like venom from a syringe into my soul. Misaki must have surely been surprised by my actions, but nonetheless, he embraced me in response, his hold one of lightness...for the moment being.

Just seconds later, Misaki had fiercely grabbed a hold onto the back of my coat, balling it's material into his clenches. "U-Usagi-san..." he whispered sweetly, the sound of my name like a symphony by his lips. Like a chain reaction, miniscule snowflakes began to dance around us gracefully, their presence ironic. Even the heavens weep for my sake...

"You can cry, if you want too..." he concluded, the invitation much more than desired, but needed, on my part.

"Idiot," I retorted. "Little brats like you shouldn't be patronizing their elders."

To my inner-pride's dismay, Misaki had begun to shed his crystalline tears once more. To my heart's sorrow, I did not want him to cry like this. However, if both of us were to cry in unison underneath this lamp post, embracing each other like so, than I do believe that even fools like us could obtain the remorse of onseers.

"I'll tell you something," I voiced in a low, pained tone, "I've never cried in front of anyone since I was born..." Pulling my lips into a forced smile, truly holding back, I finished my sentence, it's end designated by the bellowing of my first tear. "...except you." Inhaling, I made sure to let him know just how special it was, how lucky he was to see me cry. "As if I'd let anyone but you see me like this..." Hidden meanings screaming in my words, Misaki tenderly encased the back of my head with his left hand. Brushing my sandy hair up and down with his bitter-sweet touch, my tears began to fall, hot and messy, upon my face.

Breathing in the scent of Misaki's bark-brown hair, the smell of maple shampoo and child's conditioner filled my airways. The scent of innocence. Tightening my grip around him, making my face home in the smooth, warm skin of his neck, I could only pity myself now. Loosing Takahiro, the person I had dedicated so much of my time to, could have, honestly, hit me harder than it was seemingly happening. Like an emotional wreck, I could have starved myself to death, or sped up that process by sending a blade through my skull. I would never do those childish things, though. What would be the point? I've always known that my love would never be requited...so acting that foolishly would truly be to my own downfall.

Feeding my hands into Misaki's silky locks, holding on to them oh, so tenderly, made me realize something. All this time I had figured that this boy was surely an idiot, that he was so uneducated that even my literate and wise knowledge couldn't break through to him, that I would never ever, in a million years, fall in love with him...

I have just embarked on my first year over those million.

* * *

_Hello there! Chappy here. (:_

_What did you guys think? Did you like it? This is my very first Junjou Romantica one-shot, so I hope I didn't displease you all._

_Now, I must first say that this story is dedicated to __**kc creation**__. You dedicated your amazing Egoist drabbles to me, so this is for you! Honestly, everyone, go check her out. She's an amazing author._

_Secondly, please take pleasure in the dialogue that I used. Wanna know why? Because it's actually what they were saying in the first episode! Before you yell at me for plagerism, let me explain. I wanted everything to be perfect in this story, so using exact dialogue was something that, I thought, would be blissful for the eyes. _

_Episode 1 opened in one tab, this story opened in the other, from the first time break, all the way until the end, it took me AT LEAST 4 hours to write, what with all my distractions. I give full credit to the creators of Junjou Romantica and aarinfantasy fansub, for that. Arigatou gozaimasu. *bow*_

_Lastly, this is my first author's note! It's fun! (:_

_I want to thank each and every one of you who have read this through and through. It is very much appreciated. Hears to more one-shots in the future! Banzai!_

_- Chappy._


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